


Separation Anxiety

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [23]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Calm Before The Storm, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s06e09 Statistical Probabilities, Fluff, Moving In Together, Post-Break Up, complicated relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:17:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Set in the Still Unnamed Defiant Verse. After the events of Statistical Probabilities, Garak decides Julian might need more support and personal care. Julian pretends to be upset about it.





	Separation Anxiety

“I was wrong,” Garak calls as he saunters into Julian’s quarters without so much as a knock, carrying a large and heavy looking black brocade bag. Julian doesn’t move to get up where he’s reading poetry on the couch, one hand gliding over the padd while the other drums along the velvet esque material in careful patterns of sixes and sevens. He flicks his gaze back from Garak and down to the number flashing across the screen, exactly none of them giving him an ounce of hope.

Julian waits for Garak to say something else, an invitation or an insult equally likely. He’s even less sure what they are now than when they were still on the Defiant, no longer roommates sharing a bed or literature, but not quite back to the fragile not-friendship they’d had after he shot Garak either. Julian rolls his shoulders, tilting his head to the right lightly as he smirks up at Garak. “That must be a troubling new sensation for you.”

 “You’re going to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?” Garak lets out a melodramatic sigh as he drops his bag to the ground, leaning over to start unzipping his bag. Apparently Garak’s come bearing gifts, or at least a rather heavy looking velvet duvet. Julian’s certainly not going to say no to that.

 “Given that I have no idea what you’re talking about, I don’t see how I can do much else.” Julian points out as he starts tapping his hand a little faster, sliding it up rest at his side. Julian furrows his brow as he watches Garak start to pull out even more blankets, wondering how cold exactly he thought Julian got at night. As much as Garak might compare him to a Cardassian, he’s still as human as anyone else. Or well, close to it anyway.

 “You’re not like a Vulcan,” Garak murmurs as though reading Julian’s thoughts, voice contrite as he continues to pull things free from his bag. This time it’s a … red ornate lampshade. Really, Julian knows Garak thinks he has bad taste, but this is extreme even for him. His words make Julian stiffen though, conversation not forgotten - nothing ever is between them - but buried under the weeks of bed sharing and arguments about Jane Austen.

 “What am I Then? An Android? A Klingon?” Julian can’t help the snipping, slightly cold quality of his voice as he angrily turns to the next page of his padd. Garak ignores him, walking around the room and shaking his head at Julian’s scant decorations. He carefully places some amethyst colored stone on the center of his table, glittering against the cool white of his dresser. Julian lets out a low huff, because first he’s emotionally lacking and now his aesthetics are too? Fine.

 Julian knows he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t quite help it as Garak comes to stand behind him. Garak _is_ the one who broke into his room to open old wounds. Garak’s hand comes down to rest on his shoulder. He brushes his thumb brushes against Julian’s neck, skin cool and almost delicate. Julian swallows down a sigh and tries to focus on the words on the page instead of the feel of Garak’s hand. “Depressed.”

 “Is that your medical opinion?” Julian stiffens a bit at Garak’s word, at the way he spreads his palm out wider against Julian’s neck, the other coming down to rest on top of his hair. Julian doesn’t resist the urge to lean into the touch even as he refuses to look up at Garak, eyes scanning over a few more lines of poetry.

 “It’s an observation confirmed by recent events.” Garak says softly, far too softly given that their the only ones in the room. This time Julian can’t quite resist meeting his gaze, tilting his head back to look up into those bright blue eyes that understand far more than Julian would like. Of course. There’s no question that Garak would’ve heard the stories by now. Julian Bashir, the idealist, the hero, the Doctor, arguing they should sacrifice themselves to the wills of the Dominion.

 Garak will not be able to forgive that, not when he’s fighting for Cardassia’s freedom and redemption. This moment must be a strange form of punishment, not a peace offering. Julian wonders when the other shoe will drop and decides to kick himself in the face with it first. “If you’re referring to me suggesting surrender-”

 “That and your general moodiness over the past few months, your growing distance from those around you, your insistence on quoting tragic war poetry to anyone within a few feet of you.” Garak tells him as he pulls his hands away from his shoulder, tone still deceptively tender as he bends over to glance down at Julian’s padd. “‘Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled, and one arm bent across your sullen cold exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you.’ Amazing you found a poet who captures my feelings so exactly, doctor.”

“It’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder, you know.” Julian’s voice is just a touch weaker than it was a second ago, hands shaking where they rest on the padd. Julian knows he probably deserves this recrimination, had expected it from Miles or Jadzia for days. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Is there a reason you’re pointing this all of this out?”

 “I’m fixing my mistakes.” Garak’s voice is dry as he finally leaves Julian’s side, hands pulling away slowly. Julian pretends not to miss the contact as he curls in further on himself. Garak strides around the couch and stops in front of Julian, glancing down at him with a smile that feels comforting and dangerous all at once.

 Julian swallows, hands curling tightly around the padd as he closes his eyes. Mistakes. Julian’s starting to think that’s all he can be outside of an infirmary. “I’m not _your_ mistake, Garak.”

 “No, you’re not. But leaving you to your brooding has been.” Garak answers shortly as he bends over again, this pulling material with alternating emerald and forest green stripes and pink-orange sections as well. It takes Julian a second to recognize the shirt, drawing in a breath as his eyes widen.

  Julian drops the padd to his side as he suddenly twists around on his right foot to face Garak more fully. Garak smiles brightly at him, picking up his bag again as he takes a few purposeful steps toward Julian’s bedroom. Oh. Oh no. “What exactly are you suggesting, Garak?”

 “I’m moving in.” Garak lets out a warm chuckle as though Julian’s being obtuse, crossing the short distance between himself and the door. Julian leaps to his feet, following after him and wringing his hands out as the reality of this situation starts to set in a bit. Garak’s trying to force his way into Julian’s space without asking him again, unfolding his clothes like it’s his right.

 “We’re not on the Defiant anymore, Garak. There’s hardly a space problem.” Julian’s tone is clipped and he tries to force more anger into his expression than he actually feels running through his veins. He’s irritated of course - Garak has no right to keep breaking into his quarters and taking over his space - but there’s also a fondness bubbling under the surface Julian should’ve gotten over a long time ago. For Garak’s sake, if nothing else.

 “No, there’s a you reading Owens and Sassoon again problem.” Garak’s voice is surprisingly firm as he starts hanging his clothes up in _Julian’s_ closet, humming softly even as Julian catches those far too perceptive eyes glancing at his library. He’ll be lucky if Garak lets him keep anything with a fight scene.

 Julian follows him, glaring as Garak makes a few judgmental sounds at his clothes. As though he knows anything about Federation fashion anyway. Julian stands behind him, reaching over Garak’s shoulder and tugging on the black shirt in his hands. Garak holds it firm, material creasing from the stretch between them. Good. “Garak, you can’t just move in here.”

 “Actually, my dear, you’ll see that I can,” Garak assures him with a wide smile as he tugs the black shirt from Julian’s hands triumphantly. Julian lets out a small huff as he takes a step back, crossing his arms against his chest as he watches Garak rearrange the closet.

 “I’ll tell Odo.” Julian glowers at Garak’s back, trying to make it sound like a real threat rather than as childish as it does to himself. These are his quarters and he and Garak are barley even … well, Julian isn’t sure what they are, except that Garak seems to think it means he can take all kinds of allowances with Julian. Julian wishes it wasn’t true.

 Garak twists around so he’s right in front of Julian, his chest brushing lightly against Julian’s. Julian raises a eyebrow, trying to fight off a smile from coming across his face as Garak lies a hand against his cheek. “He won’t object. He likes me more than you.”

 “What about the temperature?” Julian throws out in a voice that’s a hair too high, wringing his hands again as he takes a few steps backward. Garak cocks his head to the right, smirk bordering on smug as he nods for Julian to keep talking. “Of the room. I know I used to turn it up when you came to visit, but we both know that isn’t quite warm enough for you to be here constantly.”

 “I brought blankets.” Garak reminds him with a slightly wider smile, gesturing over to where his brocade bag sits on the edge of his bed. Julian marches over to it, pulling out another velvet blanket, this one a deep crimson. He groans low in his throat, tossing it onto the bed with a low sigh. Of course Garak’s thought of everything. _Of_ _course_.

 Julian sits on the edge of his bed, spreading the blanket out across the his light blue sheets. They clash, and for a brief, senseless moment, Julian wonders if pointing that out would be enough to get Garak change his mind. He tries to pretend his stomach doesn’t drop at the thought of Garak leaving. “But then it will be too warm for me.”

 “I can put blankets on top of me and not on you, my dear.” Garak laughs, rich and warm, sliding a hand to Julian’s shoulder as he comes up behind him again.  Julian twists around so he’s staring Garak in the eye, swallowing tightly as he feels himself start to capitulate bit by bit. Julian’s never been good at saying no to things he’s want even when he’s not sure they want him back.

 Julian glances at the bed and then back to the bag, counting the number of blankets inside. Six just like on the Defiant, but the ship is kept 6 degrees warmer. That’s too much For -“But then you can’t -“

 “Lie on top of you?” Garak finishes for him with a wide grin, a light flush spreading out across his cheeks as he quickly looks away. Garak gaze grows a bit more tender as he runs his hand up to Julian’s cheek. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out, my dear.”

  
“I suppose if we use half the blankets and - you’re not moving in, Garak.” Julian cuts himself off as he flaps his hand back and forth in the air, shaking his head even as he lets the other man starts spreading the new blankets onto his - _their_ bed. Maybe having all of his sad poetry stolen from him won’t be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I might still be figuring out if I think Garak loves Julian or not, but that’s not going to stop me from writing fluff between them in this still needs a name series. 
> 
> Also always open to prompts :).


End file.
